“Ask your doctor if Xancakes are right for you.”

I understand why this isn’t allowed, but I really think I could be trusted to judiciously self-administer maybe six Xanax per year — just one for every time I see my parents.

But fine. I’ll just eat too much at brunch. Pancakes and Xanax are basically the same. (Panax? OMG, no — Xancakes! GIMME.)

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, some good mood-altering substances.

I think I’m packed for Christmas, yeah?  

No, wait… You’re right. I need beer.

Also, I totally hear you — Xanax would’ve been great, but alas, there’s some shit about ethics where they won’t give it to me because I don’t actually have anxiety? I KNOW, right, what the shit? This IS America, right? Family gatherings + Jesus’ birthday = special dispensation. That’s in the Bible: “And lo, distributed among them, there were delicious medications, and yea, they were happy. OK, well…not really HAPPY, but they didn’t hit anyone, and so there was peace on earth, and sedated goodwill toward men.”

P.S. I will spend today baking MANY cookies; those are almost Xanax if you eat enough of them.

P.P.S. That whiskey is not for me. That shit is like having one of those hippie honey cough drops in your drink. Ugh.

Limited time only, family two-fer value pack!

I’m spending the day with my family.

Perhaps this is just coincidence, but I’m also repopulating my entire Amazon wishlist with Xanax and bourbon.

First, do no harm. But DO have Xanax and burritos.

Emailing a friend: “‘Xanax and burritos’ should be the beginning of every prescription. It should be pre-printed on the prescription pad with the doctor’s name and contact info.”

A major award!

Apparently I got a “Versatile Blogger” award from Girl, Intoxicated. Yay, me. Yay, her. Yay, blogging.

These are the rules:

• Display the award certificate on your blog
• Announce your win with a post and thank the blogger who nominated you
• Present 15 deserving bloggers with the award
• Link your nominees in the post and let them know about their nomination with a comment
• Post seven interesting things about yourself

I’m not sure I even read 15 blogs, but I’ll do what I can, and by all means, go check out the blogs Girl, Intoxicated recommends in her post.

1. Girl, Intoxicated. (Obvs.)
2. Amediablogger. (Who has already done this and recommended 15 choice blogs as well.)
3. Shaeconnorwrites.
4. Simply A.
5. The Bloggess.
6. XOJane. (I’m not even sure this qualifies as a blog. But whatever, I like it.)
7. Jezebel. (I can finally add them back now that they seem to have shut up about Miley fucking Cyrus.)
8. Healthy Living Holly.
9. Jennsylvania.
10. Adulting.
11. Resume Speak.

I think I might be out of blogs, y’all, sorry. Feel free to flesh out my list by leaving YOUR favorites in the comments.

And here are seven (interesting?) things about me:

1. If I haven’t had at least one cup of coffee by around 11 a.m., you probably do not want to talk to me.
2. I am way too self-conscious about my cleavage.
3. I have the best friends in the world and a few of them have been amazing beyond words this past year. I can’t even. I love you guys.
4. Having said that, I firmly believe life would be sweeter if my drinking water were laced with a very low dose of Xanax.
5. My dairy addiction is severe enough that, if my milkshake did, in fact, bring all the boys to the yard, I’d probably be more interested in the milkshake than the boys. (Related: I often see a guy walking his dog, and I have no interest in the guy, but want to stop him and chat so I can play with his dog…which I swear is not a metaphor.)
6. There’s so much good stuff coming on TV this fall that I’m kind of excited to be antisocial and have no life.
7. I swallow, but not just because I’m awesome and happen to love it. I also think spitting is messy and frankly unladylike. (Also, where am I spitting? In theory, I’m in my home, or his home. Am I supposed to keep a cup nearby, like if I chewed tobacco?) And I certainly don’t want to wash a guy’s…deposit off my body or out of my nice sheets. Gross. I am not a ho; ergo, you are not Superman-ing me.